


Breaking and Healing

by Riverthunder



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Death of family member, Hurt Peter Parker, May is Murdered, Murder, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Watches May Die, Peter is kidnapped, Protective Tony Stark, Ransom, Swearing, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony is Pissed off, Torture, dad tony stark, kidnap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-07 09:26:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14668142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riverthunder/pseuds/Riverthunder
Summary: Tony receives terrible news. May is dead, and Peter has been kidnapped by her killers. Spider-Man is being held for ransom, and Tony must find him before the kidnappers hurt him...or worse. But even if Tony manages to save him, how can he help him recover from watching his aunt's murder and the trauma of his kidnapping? Rated T for Swearing and Dark Content.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Consider this a timeline where Infinity War has happened and everyone who was turned to ash has returned. This fic contains swearing, ransom, kidnap, murder, abuse/torture, and other dark subjects. For lighter Avengers fics, please consider My Itsy Bitsy Spider, Precious Treasures, and even Drowning While They Drift. The latter is also an angsty hurt/comfort fic, but it is not as dark as this fic. The former two fics are fluff fics. I hope you enjoy this story, please leave a Comment/Review if you did.

Peter fought hard against the bindings around his wrist. Tears streamed down his face as tried to scream through his gag.  
The red-headed man standing beside him hit him hard with the butt of a gun. Peter felt dazed, and fought to try and focus his gaze back on May.  
“How’s the camera setup?” A voice behind Peter asked.  
“Almost got it,” replied a balding man to Peter’s left.  
“Hurry up. I want to get this kid out of here fast.”  
The fourth and final man of the group smirked at May, fingering the revolver in his hand. She glared at him, but Peter could see that she was shaking.  
He tried to cry out again, fighting hard.   
_I have to save May I have to I can’t let them hurt May I can’t-_  
“Got it,” the man working on the camera called. “We’re ready to roll.”  
“Excellent.” The man behind Peter approached the camera, and set it up so Peter and May were both in the frame.  
“Ready, boys?”  
The three other men each called an affirmation.  
“Let’s roll.” The leader pulled a bandana over his face, and the other men did the same.  
The man behind the camera pressed a button and gave the leader a thumbs up.  
“Hello, Mr. Stark,” the leader said brightly. “You don’t know me, but you’re about to. I assume you recognize your little spiderling?” He walked to Peter and jerked his head so he was facing the camera. Peter screamed again and tried to free himself. “Feisty, isn’t he?” He laughed coldly.  
He released Peter, who immediately thrashed in his bonds again.  
“Now, Mr. Stark,” the leader growled, “I want you to listen to me _very carefully_.” He turned to May. “I’m sure you know this beauty,” he said. “Your spiderling’s sweet aunt. She’s going to be the example.”  
Peter felt his heart plunge into his stomach.  
“You’re going to send twenty million dollars to us,” Leader growled. “If we don’t have our money in twenty-four hours….”  
Leader turned to Smirk, who cocked the revolver.  
Peter cried out.  
 _No! No! Please! May! May, I’m sorry! May!_  
“Peter,” May said, smiling at him despite the tears in her eyes and the way she was shaking, “Peter, listen to me. This isn’t your fault, do you understand me? This isn’t your fault, Peter. I love you.”  
Peter screamed as loudly as he could and jerked hard against his bonds as Smirk raised the revolver and pointed it at May’s head.  
The gun went off and May slumped forward as blood spattered the floor. Peter sobbed hysterically. All the fight left him, and he went limp except for his heartbroken sobs.  
“All the information you’ll need is going to be in the email we’ve sent you along with this video,” Leader said brightly. “For every four hours we don’t have the cash, you’ll get a video starring your precious spiderling.” He turned and walked to Peter, ripping the gag off. “Want to say anything to old Starky, Spiderling?”  
Peter was still shaking with sobs.  
“Want to tell him how scared you are?” Leader suggested. “What about how much it hurts?”  
As if to prove this point, Red seized a fistful of Peter’s hair and jerked his head roughly.  
Peter screamed, but he still continued to cry. He couldn’t help it.  
 _May._  
 _May._  
 _May._  
 _May._  
 _May._  
 _May._  
 _May is dead._  
 _She’s dead, and she’s never coming back._  
 _You’re never going to see May ever again._  
What else could they do to him? Sure, they could cut him, shoot him, beat him- it seemed like child’s play in comparison to the pain in his heart.  
He half hoped Tony wouldn’t pay the ransom and they would kill him. At least if he was dead he wouldn’t have to suffer with this terrible ache in his chest.  
“Why don’t you beg Starky to come save you?” Leader taunted. “Come on, Spiderling. It was you he cared about, right? Better get begging or he might let you die.”  
Peter finally raised his head, turning to look at the camera. “P-please,” he whimpered.  
“Good job, kid,” Leader told him mockingly. “Starky must be so proud.”  
Leader punched Peter in the gut, making him gasp for air, before turning on his heel, smirking, and beginning to talk to the camera once again.  
“Remember, Stark. You have twenty-four hours to get us twenty million. Every four hours we send you a video. If we don’t get our money, we’ll blow out your spiderling’s brains just like we did with his sweet auntie.”  
Baldy clicked a button, nodding to Leader. “Got it, boss.”  
“Good,” Leader said. “Not like we can do another take.” He laughed mockingly as he kicked May’s chair over.  
Peter sobbed again. Couldn’t they leave her alone? She was dead, they’d killed her. Couldn’t they let her have some sort of dignity in death?  
Red cut Peter free of the chair, careful to keep his wrists bound. Smirk came to help Red force Peter out of the apartment, supporting his weight.  
Baldy worked to pack up the camera equipment while Leader admired the scene. “Nice work, boys,” Peter heard Leader say as he was forced down the hall. “The payoff for this is gonna be good.”  
~(*)~  
Tony sighed in exasperation. This rocket booster just refused to cooperate with him. He fiddled with a few screws, then grumbled and pushed the booster away.  
“Still giving you trouble?” Bruce asked, looking up from some hologram blueprints.  
“Yeah,” Tony huffed in annoyance. “I think I need a break. Want to take an apple break?”  
“Sure,” Bruce said, standing up and stretching.  
They left the lab to head to the kitchen.  
Steve sat on the couch reading the newspaper ( _who still reads newspapers?_ Tony thought) next to Thor, who was watching a sitcom on the television.  
“Mr. Stark, you’ve received an email from Peter Parker,” FRIDAY said. “It is entitled _Open Immediately or You’ll Regret It_. There is a video file and a PDF attached to it.”  
Tony didn’t think much of it; Peter probably wanted to show him some new move.  
“Go ahead and open the video on the TV, FRIDAY,” Tony said, selecting a Granny Smith apple from the fruit bowl.  
He looked up as the video appeared on the screen, and froze. Peter and May were tied to chairs with three men standing in the room with them. The one beside May had greasy black hair and looked to be smirking under his bandana. The one beside Peter had red hair and a scar across his cheek. The man in the middle had clean cut light brown hair and bushy eyebrows. Peter was struggling. May was shaking.  
“Is that Peter?” Bruce asked, horrified.  
“It is,” Tony whispered.  
“Who would dare attack the Man of Spiders?” Thor demanded, enraged.  
“Hello, Mr. Stark,” the man with bushy eyebrows said. “You don’t know me, but you’re about to. I assume you recognize your little spiderling?” He strode across the room to Peter and seized his head, forcing it to the side so he was facing the camera. Peter screamed again loudly and thrashed in a vain attempt to free himself. “Feisty, isn’t he?” The man laughed. The sound was chilling, like ice.  
Steve’s paper was shaking in his hands. Rage was rolling off him in waves, almost tangible.  
The man let Peter go, and he began to fight against his bindings..  
“Now, Mr. Stark,” the leader snarled, “I want you to listen to me _very carefully_.” He turned on his heel, approaching May. “I’m sure you know this beauty,” he said. “Your spiderling’s sweet aunt. She’s going to be the example.”  
“No,” Tony and Bruce whispered together in horror.  
Tony felt his blood turn to ice as Peter froze.  
 _Oh no. Oh god. No. Not this._  
“You’re going to send twenty million dollars to us,” the leader growled. “If we don’t have our money in twenty-four hours….”  
The leader turned to the greasy haired man. He cocked the revolver in his hand. His smirk grew impossibly bigger.  
Peter screamed.  
“Peter,” May said, and Tony was proud to hear that her voice was steady even as she shook in the chair, “Peter, listen to me. This isn’t your fault, do you understand me? This isn’t your fault, Peter. I love you.”  
Peter’s scream was piercing as fought against his bindings while the man raised the revolver to May’s head.  
There was the bang of a gunshot, and May’s blood splattered across the floor as she slumped forward, lifeless. Peter sobbed in earnest, slumping in his chair.  
Tony was horrified. They had killed May. They had killed May, and they had made Peter watch them do it.  
He was furious. He was going to make these bastards suffer for this.  
“All the information you’ll need is going to be in the email we’ve sent you along with this video,” the leader said cheerfully. “For every four hours we don’t have the cash, you’ll get a video starring your precious spiderling.” He turned and walked to Peter, ripping the gag off in a swift, brutal movement. “Want to say anything to old Starky, Spiderling?”  
Peter was shaking, sobbing for May. Tony didn’t blame him.  
“Want to tell him how scared you are? What about how much it hurts?”  
The redheaded, scarred man seized a handful of Peter’s hair and yanked it hard. Peter screamed, but still just continued to sob.  
“Why don’t you beg Starky to come save you?” the leader said mockingly. “Come on, Spiderling. It was you he cared about, right? Better get begging or he might let you die.”  
Tony felt a rush of cold fury.  
 _Never._  
Oh, he was going to make that smug son of a bitch regret this. Every breath, every word, every step.  
Peter raised his head at last, and looked into the camera. He looked broken, and it broke Tony’s heart. “P-please,” he whimpered.  
“Good job, kid,” the leader sneered. “Starky must be so proud.”  
Tony knew he was mocking Peter for giving in, but he snarled “you bet I am, you bastard,” under his breath anyway.  
The leader punched Peter in the stomach, making the boy double over in pain as he gasped for breath, before turning on his heel, smiling maliciously, and beginning to talk to the camera once again.  
“Remember, Stark. You have twenty-four hours to get us twenty million. Every four hours we send you a video. If we don’t get our money, we’ll blow out your spiderling’s brains just like we did with his sweet auntie.”  
The video went dead.  
“We have to rescue the Man of Spiders,” Thor declared at once, getting to his feet.  
“We have to save him,” Steve agreed. “We can’t let them keep him for long.”  
“If we don’t get to him soon they might just kill him anyway,” Bruce said. “We need to be fast.”  
Tony was frozen, thinking hard.  
“Tony?” Steve asked.  
“Tony!” Bruce yelled. “Tony, we have to do something!”  
“We will,” Tony growled, his voice deadly and cold.  
“Tony?” An edge of nervousness entered Steve’s voice. “Tony, what are you planning?”  
“Get the rest of the team,” Tony snarled, a plan for revenge forming in his mind. The idea of watching the men writhe in pain as he stood over them was all he wanted in this moment. “We’re going to make those fuckers wish they’d never been fucking born.”


	2. Chapter Two

Peter felt dizzy.  
He should probably be more focused on the aching in his limbs, or his other injuries; the men hadn’t had any problem with cutting him up a bit or beating him as they waited for Tony to pay the ransom or for the first four hour mark to be up.  
Maybe he should be afraid; after all, he’d seen their faces, and he knew where they were. Even if Tony paid up, they couldn’t have any intention of actually letting him go free. The plan _had_ to be to kill him to ensure his eternal silence.  
Or, he could have focused on the grief of May’s untimely death, the brutality of her murder and the disrespect Leader had shown her body.  
But, no, he could only feel dizziness.  
His head swam and he whimpered around the gag. He was severely dehydrated; he hadn’t had much water today and he’d cried his heart out after May was killed. Now he felt weak and useless.  
He tried to focus on something else. He couldn’t focus on the weak, dizzy feeling- if he did, he worried he’d be tempted to fall asleep.  
But the only thing he could think to focus on was all the reasons he fucked up that morning and caused May’s death.  
 _I left my suit in my room._  
But he never wore his suit in the mornings- he was a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man during the afternoons and evenings.  
 _I didn’t hear them come in._  
He was taking a shower, and from what he could tell they’d probably knocked and then forced their way in when May answered.  
 _It wasn’t her fault and it wasn’t yours either_ , a small voice told him.  
 _Yes it was_ , a stronger voice replied. _It was all my fault._  
~(*)~  
Bruce had insisted on visiting the apartment before they searched for Peter once Natasha, Clint, and a few other Avengers had turned up. It had taken a lot of fighting to make Tony agree to it.  
“There may be clues there,” Bruce told him. “And we have to get to May.”  
Tony had finally reluctantly agreed. Peter was still alive and in danger, but maybe the attackers would have been stupid enough to leave something behind.  
Even if they didn’t, May deserved to be treated with some respect by whoever found her. He didn’t want anyone carelessly tossing her in a truck.  
So, when they made it to the apartment and Tony saw her, still bound to her chair, but knocked pathetically over onto the floor, he felt unfathomable rage.  
“Tony-” Steve began, but he shot him a dark, warning look.  
Steve held up his hands in surrender, and Tony moved to where May was lying on her side. He carefully unbound her hands and legs from the chair and laid her on her back with her arms folded over her stomach, as if she had fallen asleep.  
“I’m going to rip those bastards into pieces,” he spat fiercely once he’d stood back up.  
No one said anything.  
Tony looked down at Peter’s aunt. He suddenly didn’t know what to do. Half of him wanted to find Peter and kill whoever had done this. The other half wanted to just curl up and die. He should have protected Peter and May better. Why hadn’t he insisted they move to the base? Why had he thought that Peter’s Iron Spider suit was enough? The idea was laughable now, really- he didn’t wear that all the time. Tony had been an idiot. He had been a fucking idiot. And now Peter was in danger and May was dead. He had caused this. This was all due to his carelessness. He should have known better.  
He heard someone move behind him. Then he felt Thor rest a hand on his shoulder.  
He said nothing.  
Somehow, the gesture still said everything it needed to.  
Tony closed his eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath.  
He could hear Clint murmuring in a low voice to the others.  
He turned. “We need to find Peter.”  
“We think we might have a lead,” Steve said.  
“Good. We’ll start there.” Tony moved to walk out the door. Clint stopped him and rested a hand on his shoulder.  
“Tony. I’m sorry.”  
Tony paused for a moment, then blinked and murmured, “Thanks, but I didn’t know her that well.”  
He could see that Clint knew he was lying- sure, he didn’t know May as well as Bruce or Pepper, but he had known her, had thought of her as family of his own in a way- but he said nothing.  
“We need to get going,” Tony said, reaching the doorway.  
“I’m staying here to look for more clues,” Bruce told him.  
Tony nodded wordlessly, then led the way out of the apartment.  
~(*)~  
“Get up, Spiderling,” growled Leader fiercely, pulling Peter roughly into a standing position.  
Peter had to work hard not to slump; he didn’t want this man supporting him in any sense. If he was going to crumple, he’d rather do it without this man trying to keep him up.  
“Your first four hours are up,” Leader told him mockingly. Peter didn’t hear much annoyance in his voice like he’d expected; perhaps the men were hoping it would take Tony up until the last minute to deliver the funds so they had an excuse to keep him alive and torture him on camera.  
Part of him wondered vaguely if Tony had even seen the first email. He might have just ignored it. He could get very absorbed in his work in the lab with Bruce- Peter remembered he had once been so caught up in it he’d been almost an hour late in picking Peter up from school and was surprised to find Ned waiting with him, as he hadn’t seen Peter’s email asking if he could tag along.  
Leader pushed Peter out of the room- more of a glorified closet, really- into a much bigger room, though it wasn’t much better in terms of coziness. It was just as barren as the closet had been: empty, save for a single chair, and, in the case of this room, the camera on its tripod.  
Peter shuddered.  
Red, Smirk, and Baldy were already in the room. Peter was not pleased to see any of them, and he didn’t like the looks on their faces. They were excited.  
Leader forced him roughly into the chair.  
“Stay.”  
Peter didn’t need him to say anything. He’d tested the bonds after they’d attacked him as he came out of the bathroom and bound him across from May. They were stronger than his enhanced abilities. Ergo, staying was not going to be a problem.  
“Ready when you are, boss,” Baldy said, checking the camera.  
“Good. Let’s begin,” Leader said, as the four began to pull their masks back up over their faces.  
Baldy nodded, pressed a few buttons, and once again gave Leader the thumbs up.  
“Starky!” Leader said, his voice jovial. “I have to say, I’m very disappointed in you, Starky! You’ve left your little Spiderling completely at my mercy!” He laughed. “Well, that’s fine. I’m sure Spiderling and I can entertain ourselves until you can finally manage to get what you’ll need to collect him.”  
He strode back to Peter, gun in hand. “Now, Starky, I know I promised not to shoot your little spiderling unless you didn’t pay us after a whole twenty-four hours….But, see, I only promised not to blow his pretty little brains out.”  
He pressed the cold metal barrel of the gun to Peter’s temple. He froze. Had his heart stopped beating? Or was it going so fast he couldn’t even feel it in his chest? He thought he had twenty more hours.  
“Now, I’m afraid the temptation to put a bullet in your smart little spider is too much. But I’ll keep my promise.”  
The barrel was pulled away and Peter was surprised he managed to stay conscious. His head was swimming; was it possible to pass out from relief? That’s what he felt like doing.  
“I won’t blow his brains out.”  
There was a bang- the same bang that had taken the life from May- and Peter felt a rush of pain in left shoulder. He screamed as loudly as he could; he’d known getting shot had to be painful, but this? He’d never in a million years would have imagined this.  
“What a pretty little song he sings,” Leader said cheerfully, like Peter was five years old and mimicking the calls of a pet canary. “Are you sure he’s a spiderling, Starky? Perhaps you should rename him- I quite like Songbird. Don’t you?”  
Red and Smirk laughed.  
Leader crouched down at Peter’s side. He was panting hard, trying to wrap his head around the pain. Trying to process the agony. Leader ripped the gag out of Peter’s mouth.  
“How do you feel, kid?” he asked in a falsely sympathetic voice. “Maybe you should tell your daddy how much it hurts.”  
Peter could feel tears of pain forming in his eyes, but he blinked them back. “Y-you’re wasting your time,” he spat. “He’s n-not my dad. H-he d-doesn’t give a damn about me.”  
“Is that so?” Leader asked. He raised his eyebrows, his expression one of mock interest. “So you’re telling me that Tony Stark doesn’t care about you at all?”  
“N-not for a fucking second,” Peter growled. He knew he was lying, but somehow being shot made him a lot more angry. He wasn’t in a position to kill Leader, Red, Smirk, and Baldy for killing May, but he was in a position to at least place a seed of doubt in their plan. He hoped. And there was another, bigger reason for the lie. The real reason, not the seed of doubt bullshit he was trying to convince himself of.  
His pride.  
He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of getting him to beg Tony for rescue a second time.  
“Well, in that case,” Leader said, getting to his feet, “I suppose I’ll have to appeal to Iron Man instead of Stark. And Iron Man can’t stand for three against one, can he?”  
Peter froze.  
 _Oh fuck._  
Bad call.  
Leader beckoned Red and Smirk forward. Peter could see the curl of Smirk’s lip even under the mask. God, if his hands were free and he could get them around that bastard’s throat-  
Smirk kicked the chair over, and Peter toppled out of it while it skidded away.  
Peter gasped as he landed, hard on the hardwood floor.   
“Hold him down,” Leader ordered.  
Red pinned Peter down, and Peter struggled to free himself from his grasp.  
Smirk stepped forward, then paused. “Maybe he’ll care after this?” he suggested. His voice was unusually high- kind of squeaky. For a moment Peter wondered how anyone could be intimidated by him. Then he stepped on Peter’s injured shoulder.  
Peter howled in pain, and thrashed under Red’s hands and Smirk’s foot. He tried to free himself, but the two of them kept him pinned.  
Finally, Smirk lifted his foot. The pain lessened some, but not much. Still, any relief was a blessing. Peter panted hard, then tried to take deep breaths. He tried to calm down.  
 _Please calm down. Please. Please. Please calm down._  
“I once heard a rumor that he heals fast, boss,” Smirk said. His unnaturally high voice was cold, but it had an terrifying falsely innocent edge to it. “Should we test that?”  
“Well, that _is_ interesting,” Leader mused. “May as well. What did you have in mind?”  
In answer, Smirk moved to stomp down hard on Peter’s lower ribs.  
Peter felt two, maybe three ribs break. He screeched in agony, and he heard all of them laughing.  
“I think that’s enough for now,” Leader said at last. “You’ve got twenty more hours, Starky. You’d better hurry up, I think the bones are going to knit poorly. That is, if the healing rumors are true, and if you’re planning on saving him at all.”  
“All set, boss,” Baldy called after a short pause.  
“Good, glad to hear it,” Leader smirked. “Get the brat back in his room.”  
Red’s grip shifted from pinning Peter down to lifting him up from his armpits. He dragged him towards the closet, and Peter didn’t know what was worse; the pain from the gunshot or the pain from his broken bones. He looked up and caught sight of the trail of blood following him. The scarlet color jumped up from the light hardwood floor.  
The sight was chilling. It was strange; the blood on his skin felt so warm, but the blood in his veins felt ice cold. How in the world was that possible?  
Red dumped him unceremoniously in the closet.  
“Do you think he might bleed out?”  
“Doubt it. We’ll check on him in an hour or two. If it hasn’t stopped bleeding we’ll get him a fucking towel or something.”  
Red shrugged and walked out, slamming the door behind him.  
Peter lay in the pool of blood, listening to his own ragged breathing.  
 _I wonder if he really will try and save me._  
~(*)~  
FRIDAY’s voice filled the small aircraft they all stood on. “Sir, you’ve received a second email from Peter Parker.”  
Tony his heart both plummet into his stomach and leap into his throat. He wasn’t sure how that was possible.  
“It is entitled, _Waiting: Part 1_.”  
“How long has it been since we received the first email?” Tony whispered.  
“Four and a half hours, sir,” FRIDAY told him.  
 _Oh god. It’s all my fault. I didn’t find him fast enough and now it’s all my fault, whatever they did is my fault._  
“Pull it up on the screen,” Tony demanded.  
“Tony, that might not be-” Steve began, but Tony rounded on him.  
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Rogers. Don’t. Peter’s a fucking kid, and whoever has him made it very clear that if they didn’t get money from me in four hours they’d hurt him again. If they went through with that shit, it’s on me. All of this shit is on me. When I find that kid, I want to be ready to apologize for every single fucking thing I put him through.”  
“Tony, if they hurt Peter again, that’s on _them_ , not you,” Nat said.  
“No, Nat, it’s not,” Tony snapped. His tone made it abundantly clear that that was the end of the matter. “FRIDAY, play the video.”  
The video crackled to life on the screen, and Tony set his jaw as he glared at that fucker with the stupid eyebrows.  
Peter was sitting in a chair behind him, bound and gagged, and he looked awful. The poor kid looked exhausted. His eyes seemed sunken in. Tony doubted they’d even considered giving him any water.  
“Starky!” The man said, his voice jovial. “I have to say, I’m very disappointed in you, Starky! You’ve left your little Spiderling completely at my mercy!” He chuckled. “Well, that’s fine. I’m sure Spiderling and I can entertain ourselves until you can finally manage to get what you’ll need to collect him.”  
He walked towards Peter, a gun in his hand. “Now, Starky, I know I promised not to shoot your little spiderling unless you didn’t pay us after a whole twenty-four hours….But, see, I only promised not to blow his pretty little brains out.”  
He put the gun to Peter’s head, and Tony felt his heart stop.  
 _No. No. No no no no no. Don’t kill him. He can’t be dead._  
“Now, I’m afraid the temptation to put a bullet in your smart little spider is too much. But I’ll keep my promise.”  
He pulled the gun away from Peter, and Tony gasped in relief.  
“I won’t blow his brains out.”  
He moved the gun behind Peter’s shoulder and pulled the trigger. The blast was loud, and Tony flinched.  
“No!”  
Peter was screaming.   
Tony’s head was spinning.  
 _He fucking shot Peter._  
“What a pretty little song he sings,” the man said brightly. “Are you sure he’s a spiderling, Starky? Perhaps you should rename him- I quite like Songbird. Don’t you?”  
The two goons laughed at the comment.  
The man bent down beside the panting boy and pulled the gag away from his mouth in a swift movement.  
“How do you feel, kid?” he asked, fake concern in his voice. “Maybe you should tell your daddy how much it hurts.”  
“Y-you’re wasting your time,” Peter managed to growl. “He’s n-not my dad. H-he d-doesn’t give a damn about me.”  
Tony actually felt a rush of hurt. Was it some sort of teenage snark at exactly the wrong moment, or did Peter actually believe the words he’d said?  
Did Peter really believe that Tony didn’t care about him?  
“Is that so?” The bastard asked. “So you’re telling me that Tony Stark doesn’t care about you at all?”  
“N-not for a fucking second,” Peter replied darkly.   
“Well, in that case,” the leader said, “I suppose I’ll have to appeal to Iron Man instead of Stark. And Iron Man can’t stand for three against one, can he?”  
Tony’s eyes widened in horror. They wouldn’t seriously….  
The leader motioned for the scarred redhead and the greasy-haired man to step forward. The greasy-haired guy was smiling under his mask.  
He kicked the chair over, and Peter was thrown out of it while it skidded across the floor away from him. Tony heard Peter gasp as he landed.  
“Hold him down,” the bushy-eyebrowed leader ordered.  
The scarred redhead pinned Peter down, and Tony watched as Peter struggled to free himself from his grasp.  
The greaseball stepped forward, then paused. “Maybe he’ll care after this?” he suggested. Tony took a moment to note that his voice was unusually high. Then he stepped on Peter’s injured shoulder.  
Peter screamed, writhing under the scarred man’s hands and fought to pull himself away from the greasy-haired man’s foot.  
After a few moments, he lifted it. Tony listened to Peter pant, trying to breathe and cope with the pain.  
“I once heard a rumor that he heals fast, boss,” Greasy said as Peter panted. “Should we test that?”  
“Well, that _is_ interesting,” Eyebrows mused. “May as well. What did you have in mind?”  
In answer, Greasy moved to stomp down hard on Peter’s lower ribs.  
Tony heard the sickening snapping of Peter’s ribs and immediately felt sick.  
“I think that’s enough for now,” Eyebrows said. “You’ve got twenty more hours, Starky. You’d better hurry up, I think the bones are going to knit poorly. That is, if the healing rumors are true, and if you’re planning on saving him at all.”  
The video cut out.  
Tony swayed a bit where he stood. He felt nauseous.  
“Tony-” Steve began.  
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Tony muttered, turning on his heel.  
“Tony,” Clint said, “we’re going to find him.”  
Tony took a deep breath, then turned to Clint, nodding once.  
“And when we do, they’ll pay for what they’re doing.”  
Tony closed their eyes.  
 _What they’re doing._  
Somehow, the fact that Clint was willing to acknowledge that they still had Peter and were still hurting him helped.  
He nodded.  
 _Peter. We’re coming._  
 _I’m coming._


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Just a few warnings about this chapter before we start!
> 
> This chapter contains:
> 
> -Violent nightmares
> 
> -More broken bones
> 
> -Strangulation
> 
> -Psychological torture
> 
> BUT! This chapter will be the last one where Leader/Eyebrows, Red/Scar, Smirk/Greaseball, and Baldy torture Peter directly!
> 
> In other words, this is the last of the Breaking- we're going to get started on the Healing now.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Thank you again for the support! Please leave a Review/Comment, and if you like this story, please consider checking out some of my other fics!

_"Peter….Peter….It's time to wake up, Peter."_

_He slowly lifted his head, looking around. The scene was murky, and somehow thick- it felt like he was wading through sludge._

_May's voice called out again._

_"Peter….Where are you…?"_

_"May!" Peter tried to call, but his voice didn't work. The thick air had somehow choked the words as they left his tongue._

_Peter slipped and fell slowly through the air, trying to claw for purchase. He couldn't grip anything. Once he'd landed he tried to claw his way back to his feet, but he felt like something was trying to drag him back down._

_"Peter…."_

_Peter finally managed to stand. He saw May was standing before him, and he collapsed into her arms, crying._

_"I thought you were dead!" He sobbed, his whole body shaking._

_"Peter….Peter….Peter…."_

_May's arms wrapped around him, and she ruffled his hair. He felt her rest her chin on his head._

_"Why did you let me die, Peter?"_

_"Wh-what?" Peter pulled back, looking at May's face, and screamed._

_She stood before him, a bullet hole in her head pouring blood over her face. Her face was scarlet with her own blood, and Peter flinched back, tears falling down his face as he retreated from her in fear._

_"Why did you let me die?"_

_"I didn't- I-"_

_"You let me die, Peter," May accused, advancing on him. He could see tears in her eyes, mixing with the blood on her face. Her face twisted into a sad smile. "I'm dead, Peter. I'm dead. AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT."_

~(*)~

Peter jerked awake, gasping in fear, then hissing in pain as he shifted his injured shoulder. He could feel the wound healing, and he doubted it was healing well. His ribs ached, and Peter immediately felt tears in his eyes.

Half of him wished his sleep had been dreamless, but the other half was grateful for the confirmation from May that her death had been his fault. He lay on his side, and closed his eyes, remembering May's face; tear-soaked, bloodied, and turned up in that heartbroken smile.

"May…." He whimpered, shaking as his body was wracked with a fresh bout of sobs, although these were tearless- he was too dehydrated to waste any water on tears.

He sobbed as the memory of her death flew into his mind. He wished with all his heart that this would end soon.

He wanted to die.

At least if he was dead, he might get the chance to apologize to May.

Maybe she had been right. Maybe there _was_ an afterlife.

But if there was, was Peter worthy of it?

_No_ , hissed a voice in his head. _You can't ever see her again. She's dead because of you. If the afterlife exists, you don't deserve to see it._

~(*)~

Tony listened as Bruce listed clues he had found in the apartment, not really listening. He could see Steve, Bruce, Natasha, and the others hanging on to his every word, but Tony couldn't force himself to listen as much as he tried. He finally gave up and interrupted Bruce instead.

"What did they do with her?"

"What?" Bruce asked, looking up.

"May. What did they do with her?"

Bruce took his glasses off, looking down and off to the side. "They took her to the morgue."

Tony nodded wordlessly.

"They told me they're going to do an autopsy. What they do with her body is up to you and Peter when you find him."

Tony closed his eyes. _What they do with her body_. God, how could he face Peter after this? How would he ever be able to look that boy in the eye again?

"Thanks, Bruce."

"Tony, we're going to find him," Bruce said. "Everything is going to be okay."

"They shot him," Tony growled. "They shot him and broke his ribs."

Bruce was silent. "I didn't know," he murmured at last. "I'm sorry. But he is going to be okay. I know he will be. Once he's safe on the base with us and he can focus on healing, I know he'll eventually be okay."

Tony just breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm himself, and ignoring Bruce's words. As well-meaning as they were, they were of no use to Tony Stark.

~(*)~

Peter could hear the men talking. They were in another room, one that shared a wall with his prison of a closet, and the wall was thin enough that their voices were clear.

"It's getting closer to being time," Red said.

"We've got to start thinking about how we're going to dispose of him," Smirk said.

"Let's worry about that later," Leader replied, his voice unconcerned. "Besides, I think we could just shoot him and leave him here once we get the cash."

"Just shoot him?" Smirk asked incredulously. "Are you kidding?"

"What? How else would we kill him?" Baldy asked, surprised.

"I know you want to strangle him, but that's too messy for my taste. It takes too long. I'd rather just get it over with." Leader said. He was moving around. Maybe the other room was a kitchen? Maybe he was getting food? It would explain the wrapper noises he could hear.

"But shooting him is so impersonal!" Smirk protested. "If we strangle him, we feel the life drain out of him." His voice was dreamy. Peter whimpered and shuddered. If they were going to kill him, couldn't they at least make it quick? He hadn't realized May's nearly instantaneous death had been a blessing.

"You're sick," Baldy said, but he and the other three were laughing.

"We'll talk about it," Leader mused. "Perhaps you can have a bit of fun sooner than that. But I warn you, if you kill him before I say so, you'll regret it."

"Yes sir," Smirk said eagerly.

"Let's set everything up. It's about time we got ready. The kid's only got fifteen minutes before his next session."

"Or before-" Smirk began.

"Or before we kill him," Leader agreed. "Right."

Peter felt his mouth go dry.

He knew it.

If Tony paid up, if he gave them what they were after, that was the end.

Peter Parker either had sixteen hours to live, or much less.

His heart was in his throat. He wasn't sure if he was ready to die.

But he wasn't sure if he was prepared for sixteen hours of torture either.

He lay in the puddle of his drying, cold blood, and simply thought about his fate.

~(*)~

"Come here, kid," growled Red, forcing Peter to his feet again. Peter whimpered but didn't have the strength to fight back. He allowed Red to drag him back out to the chair, let him force him into it.

He stared past Baldy, Smirk, and Leader, not really seeing them as they watched him, laughing.

The sky was beginning to grow dark. Peter was a bit sad that the window wasn't facing the west. What he wouldn't give to see one last sunset, to appreciate one more of those before he died.

"Ready for another round of fun, kid?" Leader asked, smirking at him.

Peter shuddered and whimpered.

He wished they wouldn't call him that.

Tony called him "kid".

He'd always thought of it as a term of endearment- seen it as Tony teasing him even though he really did care about Peter. It was almost like a pet name a parent might give a child.

Now the thought of anyone calling him "kid" made him feel ill. If he lived through this he never wanted to hear that fucking word again.

But if he lived through this, how was he going to tell Tony he now hated that name with every cell in his body?

No, Peter thought. That wasn't accurate. He hated that name more than that.

With every mitochondria in his body, maybe.

Wildly Peter's brain began to chant, _mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell mitochondria is-_

Peter tried to push the chant away. Was this an effect of the captivity? The lack of water? Maybe it was the poor sleep. Whatever the cause, god, he did not like the side effects.

None of them seemed to be all that concerned with their prisoner. Leader was looking at something Red was showing him, nodding. Baldy was focused on the camera. Smirk was winding something around his hand.

Peter froze, anger and fear rising in him.

It was one of May's scarves.

It was sheer and pretty; something Ben bought her just before he died, a prized possession of May's. It was black, with silver stars, moons, and planets dancing around the fabric.

Seeing it in Smirk's hands enraged Peter.

Knowing what he was going to do with it made him want to vomit.

"Let's get started," Leader said brightly.

Peter wanted to cry. He didn't want to get started. He wanted to go home. He wanted to sleep.

He wanted Tony to rescue him.

He wanted May to be alive.

The four all drew their masks up, almost as one, and Baldy fiddled with some buttons as Leader moved to stand before the camera.

"Ready, boss?" Baldy asked.

"Ready," Leader confirmed. "What about you two?"

Red and Smirk voiced their assent.

"Then let's begin."

Baldy held up a thumbs up.

"Hello, Iron Man," Leader smiled. "Since your Spiderling says you don't care about him, we may as well drop all pretense, don't you agree?" He smiled under his mask, then wagged a finger chastingly at the camera. "But even if you don't love him, it's irresponsible to let us torture him, Iron Man," Leader told him. "You should be paying up so this can all stop."

He sighed, as if what he was about to do was going to be a drain on him. "I want you to remember, Starky, this is all _your_ fault."

Leader reached into his pocket and pulled out the gun again. Peter barely had time to see the flash of silver before Leader had turned swiftly on his heel.

Peter felt the bullet tear through his knee before he heard the crack the gun made. He screeched horribly; had the previous gunshot hurt this badly? He didn't think so. He sobbed, threatening to fall out of the chair.

"What's wrong, kid?" Leader asked, his voice falsely sympathetic. "Does it hurt?"

"P-please," Peter sobbed, looking up at him. "P-please s-stop."

Leader, Red, and Smirk all began roaring with laughter.

"Look at that!" Leader laughed, turning back to the camera and advancing on it. "Look at your precious boy now, Iron Man! He broke so easily! Is this your prodigy? This weak excuse for life?" He walked to Peter's side and grabbed the boy by his jaw, squeezing it hard. Even though Peter knew he couldn't, a part of him feared that Leader was going to break his jaw with him bare hands. "This is the brat you waste money and technology on? This is the whelp you want to become a hero? He's _nothing_. He's a fucking weakling."

He snapped his fingers, and Red hurried forward.

"But we're just getting started, Starky," Leader purred. Smirk was following, a bit more slowly. He was wrapping May's scarf loosely around his own throat as he walked behind Peter, placing his hands on the back of the chair the boy sat in.

Leader turned to the pair, nodding. Smirk jerked the chair out away from Peter, laughing cruelly when the boy cried out in pain as his injuries landed on the hardwood floor.

"Hold him down," Red ordered coldly.

Smirk forced his hands down on Peter's shoulders, and Peter screamed again as Smirk purposefully pressed down hard on the gunshot wound in his shoulder.

"Aw, look at that," he teased in his high voice. "He has no idea what he's in for."

Red ignored Peter and Smirk, instead testing the weight of the mallet in his hands.

"Which did we decide was first?" he asked himself. "Oh, right."

He seized Peter's right wrist and pinned it away from his body, raising the mallet in the air with the other hand.

"Watching his ribs heal wasn't very interesting," Leader said cheerfully. "And it was a bit hard to see. So…." He trailed off, shrugging.

Peter screeched in fear, fighting to free himself from Smirk and Red's holds, but neither loosened their grip.

Red brought the mallet down with all the force he could on Peter's upper arm.

Peter screamed again; how much longer would he be able to scream? He could feel that his arm was broken. He felt sick and hurt.

He sobbed, wishing he was free.

_At least if I was dead I wouldn't be in pain anymore._

Red moved away from his arm, focusing his attention on Peter's left leg. He brought the mallet down twice this time, breaking his tibia and fibula.

Peter had screamed himself hoarse at this point. If he really was rescued, would he be able to ever talk again? Surely his vocal cords must be frayed by now.

"Don't forget his collarbone," Leader reminded Red.

"I won't," Red replied coolly. "But that doesn't need this." He tossed the mallet away carelessly, raising his hand. He held it out almost like a knife, then plunged in down towards Peter's left clavicle.

Peter's screech was cut off. He just didn't have it in him to scream any more. He wanted to- he wanted more than anything to scream and wail and beg for them to leave him alone, to stop- but he couldn't. His voice had given out.

Red got up, and Peter saw him glaring down at him. Red's expression was one of pure hatred, and Peter wondered why. What had he ever done to Red? Did he just resent Peter for causing him so much work?

As Red left him, Peter lay on the floor, the pain hard to comprehend. What hurt more? His collarbone? Maybe his arm?

Probably his leg; it was sporting a gunshot wound and two broken bones.

Peter could barely open his eyes and look around. He was just so tired….The idea of falling asleep was so tempting. Maybe May would come and take him away.

_Wouldn't that be nice_ , Peter thought to himself. _If she forgave me enough to come get me._

He vaguely registered Smirk forcing him into a sitting position, a painful position in this state, and he felt as Smirk wrapped the soft polyester scarf around his throat. Peter breathed in the scent of May's perfume and began to panic.

_May!_ His brain screamed.

_May!_

_May!_

_MAY!_

The scarf tightened around his throat.

Peter gagged. He struggled to gasp for breath, but air did not come. He writhed in Smirk's grip, clawing at his aunt's scarf and desperately trying to get the air he needed. Despite the pain in both of his arms, he continued tried to claw at the scarf, instinct overtaking pain. He felt his nails digging into his throat, felt them drawing blood as he tried to pull the scarf away so he could feel some form of relief.

He could hear Smirk laughing from what sounded like miles away.

Was he underwater? It sounded like he must be.

Pinpricks jabbed at his face as he slowly began to give in, a gurgle dying on his throat. Stars popped in his vision, but blackness was overtaking his vision.

_Am I going to die?_ He wondered vaguely. _I thought they wanted me alive._

Then the scarf was gone. Peter gasped loudly and panted, drawing in deep, gulping breaths of air. He'd never been so relieved to feel air in his lungs. He'd thought swimming to the surface after a cannonball in the deep end of the pool was bad. What a stupid mistake to make. He should have known it would be a million times worse when it came to Smirk.

Leader and Red were almost crying with laughter. "Look at his face!" Red howled.

Smirk wasn't laughing. Instead, he leaned in so Peter could feel his foul breath on his ear. "That's how I'm going to kill you," Smirk hissed.

Peter was still gasping like a fish out of water, but the threat stuck with him.

That was what they were going to do to him.

He suddenly envied May.

At least she hadn't suffered through torture or faced that kind of pain.

"I think we'll leave him there," Leader mused carelessly. "Too much of a pain to move him back to him room." He turned back to the camera. "That's eight hours down, Iron Man," he said in a teasing voice. "You have less than sixteen left."

~(*)~

"We've got to narrow it down," Hawkeye was saying.

"We've narrowed it down to three places," Rogers argued. "We should just pick one and start searching."

"That's too dangerous. Imagine the state we could find him in if we got him after a few more videos."

_Videos_.

At the word, Tony checked the time.

It had been nearly eight and a half hours since the first video.

He shuddered.

A new video should be arriving any-

"Mr. Stark," said FRIDAY's cool Irish voice, "you have a-"

"Just play it," Tony growled, turning to look at the screen.

"Yes, sir," FRIDAY said smoothly.

There was a pause, then the video appeared on the screen.

"Hello, Iron Man," the bushy-eyebrowed leader said, smiling. "Since your Spiderling says you don't care about him, we may as well drop all pretense, don't you agree?" He was smiling under his mask, as if he could sense the hurt that the sentence would cause Tony, and he wagged a finger at the camera, as if reprimanding the billionaire. "But even if you don't love him, it's irresponsible to let us torture him, Iron Man," Leader told him. "You should be paying up so this can all stop."

He sighed, like he was sleep deprived and just wanted to take a nap that was being denied to him. "I want you to remember, Starky, this is all _your_ fault."

He pulled out a gun and shot Peter in the left knee so swiftly Tony barely registered the movement. Peter wailed in pain immediately, slumping in his seat as he cried.

"What's wrong, kid?" the leader asked him in a mocking voice. "Does it hurt?"

"P-please," the boy whimpered, looking up at his captor, and Tony hated to see the level of pain on the child's face. "P-please s-stop."

Tony felt his heart break. Peter was losing his fight. He could see that. He could see that Peter was ready to give up. He wanted to snatch the boy up and protect him.

"Peter, hold on," Tony begged, even though the boy couldn't hear him. "I'm coming to get you, Peter, I promise."

The three men all howled with laughter, as if Peter's pleas for mercy were the most amusing joke any of them had ever heard.

"Look at that!" Eyebrows crowed, turning to the camera and moving forward, his movements almost predatory. "Look at your precious boy now, Iron Man! He broke so easily! Is this your prodigy? This weak excuse for life?" He turned and walked back to Peter, seizing the teenager's jaw roughly with his hand and forcing the boy to stare into the camera. "This is the brat you waste money and technology on? This is the whelp you want to become a hero? He's _nothing_. He's a fucking weakling."

If he wasn't protected by a screen, Tony could have strangled the bastard. Peter was worth more than a million of each of them.

Eyebrows snapped his fingers. The scarred crony hurried to Peter's side.

"But we're just getting started, Starky," Eyebrows said, and his voice was a sort of silky purr. Greaseball was following, though slower. Tony saw he had May's favorite scarf and was wrapping it loosely around his own throat as he walked behind Peter, placing his hands on the back of the chair the boy sat in.

Eyebrows turned to the pair, nodding. Smirk jerked the chair out away from Peter, laughing cruelly in his unnaturally high voice when the boy cried out in pain as his injuries landed on the hardwood floor.

"Hold him down," Scar ordered coldly.

Greasy pinned his hands down on Peter's shoulders, and Peter howled with pain again as Greaseball purposefully pressed down hard on the gunshot wound in his shoulder.

"Aw, look at that," he said mockingly in his high voice. "He has no idea what he's in for."

Scar wasn't paying any attention to the pair. He was busy testing the weight of a mallet in his hands.

"Which did we decide was first?" he muttered. "Oh, right."

He seized Peter's right wrist and pinned it away from his body, raising the mallet in the air with the other hand.

"Watching his ribs heal wasn't very interesting," Eyebrows explained brightly. "And it was a bit hard to see. So…." He trailed off, shrugging and grinning at the camera before turning back to watch.

Peter screeched in fear, fighting to free himself from the mens' holds, but neither loosened their grip.

Scar slammed the mallet down with all the force he could on Peter's upper arm.

Peter screamed again, and Tony physically flinched. But he felt a rush of horror when he realized Scar wasn't done.

He moved away from Peter's broken arm, focusing his attention on the boy's left leg. He brought the mallet down twice this time, breaking his tibia and fibula.

Peter screamed so loudly and for so long that eventually his voice faded away. Tony thought his vocal cords must have given up. He wasn't surprised.

"Don't forget his collarbone," Eyebrows said cheerfully.

"I won't," Scar replied, his tone uncaring. "But that doesn't need this." He tossed the mallet away carelessly, raising his hand. He held it out almost like a knife, then plunged in down towards Peter's left clavicle.

Peter's screech was cut off, and Tony knew it was because he'd lost the ability to scream at this point. He wasn't surprised, and he didn't blame the boy.

But damn, these fuckers were going to pay for this.

Scar got to his feet, and gave Peter a look of purest hate. Tony couldn't fathom why. Was it hate for Tony directed to Peter? It had better be.

Scar then turned and left, not sparing the child he had tortured a second glance. Peter was just laying on the floor. Tony couldn't imagine the pain he must be in.

Tony watched fearfully as Greaseball forced the dazed child into a sitting position. Peter seemed to barely realize anything was happening to him. Then Tony saw the space-themed scarf was no longer wrapped loosely around Greasy's neck.

Then the sadist wrapped May's favorite scarf around her nephew's throat and began to choke the life out of him.

Peter was gagging, struggling to gasp for breath, but air did was not coming. He writhed, completely at Greasy's mercy, clawing at his aunt's scarf and desperately trying to get the air he needed. Raising either of his arms should be immensely painful, and nearly impossible to do, but still he tried to claw at the scarf. He nails were digging into his throat, and Tony saw Peter was drawing blood as he tried to pull the scarf away so he could breathe.

As Peter clawed and choked, Greaseball was laughing. It was a high, cold, disturbing sound. Tony was ready to end him for this.

Peter's efforts began to leave him. He slowly stopped trying to remove the scarf from his throat, stopped trying to get air. He seemed to be giving up on living.

Greaseball removed the scarf just before Peter could pass out. The teenager gasped loudly and panted, drawing in deep, gulping breaths of air. He collapsed to the ground, drawing in breath as he tried to recover from what Greasy had done.

Tony could hear Eyebrows and Scar laughing mockingly at Peter. "Look at his face!" Scar howled gleefully.

Smirk wasn't laughing. Instead, he leaned in and whispered quietly in Peter's ear.

Tony couldn't hear what he said, but he saw the fear in Peter's eyes and the expression like he would cry if he could. Tony was fuming

"I think we'll leave him there," Eyebrows said, like he was picking pizza over Mexican food for dinner. "Too much of a pain to move him back to him room." He turned back to the camera. "That's eight hours down, Iron Man," he said, a teasing note in his voice. "You have less than sixteen left."

Tony watched as the video cut out.

"Tony-" Natasha began, but FRIDAY cut her off.

"Sir, they have made a mistake with their encryptions," FRIDAY told him. "I have managed to track their IP address and received a physical address from that."

Tony looked up sharply.

" _You know where they are_?"

"Yes, sir."

"Put the coordinates in," Tony said, walking to the ramp button, "and send them to me."

"Tony," Steve said warningly, "you can't fight them alone."

" _Bullshit_ ," Tony snarled. "You won't be far behind, and I won't kill them. But I'm not leaving my kid alone with them any longer."

The ramp was open. Without another word, Tony let the Iron Man suit envelop him, and he leapt gracefully out of the aircraft, flying away in the direction FRIDAY had indicated for him.

~(*)~

Leader laughed as Baldy stepped back to admire his work. He'd place a dog collar around Peter's neck, and was now standing over him.

"Speak," Baldy said mockingly, his foot hovering over Peter's broken leg.

Not wanting to find out what it would feel like if Baldy really did step on it, Peter began to bark weakly at him. He felt broken. He was exhausted. He wished he was dead. But there hadn't been any relief. They'd sent another video to Mr. Stark, and now here he was, barking like a dog to save himself from a little extra pain.

"You're a sick piece of work," Leader laughed. "And you say Benny's fucked up."

Baldy laughed too. "Think Stark would be more likely to pay if he saw that?" he said mockingly.

"At this rate, I doubt it," Leader shrugged. "But, oh well. Bottom line is we still get to kill the kid. And I guarantee you, that shit will fuck with Stark forever."

"Think he'll ever find us?" Red called from another room.

"Maybe," Leader allowed. "But we've got what we really wanted, don't we?"

The group all called their assent.

"Make the kid bark again," Smirk called, pulling a phone out of his pocket. "I want to keep that forever."

Baldy obliged once Smirk had indicated he was filming, his foot hovering over Peter's leg as he ordered him to speak.

Again, Peter began to bark in earnest, becoming more panicked as Baldy threatened to step on his leg anyway.

**_CRASH._ **

Everyone jumped as the door was smashed in.

Peter stared up at the red and gold armor, noting the bright blue-white of the arc reactor, and couldn't help feeling surprised as he stared at it.

_Mr. Stark really came to save me?_

"Get the fuck away from my kid," Tony snarled darkly, advancing on Baldy, who scrambled back.

"H-how did you-" Leader asked, looking around wildly.

"How I found you doesn't matter," Tony spat coldly. "What matters is what I'm going to do with you now that I've found you."

Leader drew a gun, and Tony shot forward, knocking it aside and crushing Leader's hand in his own, making him scream.

"Sorry, does that hurt?" Tony asked mockingly. "Too bad."

Baldy tried to throw himself at Tony, but he knocked him aside so hard he sailed through the door to Peter's closet prison and out the other wall.

Smirk tried to lunge for him too, but Tony seized him by the throat, and in a swift movement threw Smirk through the wall too.

Red was watching him warily from the doorway, clearly trying to decide how he was going to attack Tony for maximum results.

Tony glared at him. "Go on, Scarface," he spat fiercely. "Try it. I fucking dare you."

Smirk seemed to think better of it, and instead retreated into the room. Tony didn't know if he was trying to flee or check on his accomplices. Tony didn't care either way.

He turned to Peter and quickly noted the new addition to his appearance. They'd placed a thick, bright red dog collar around Peter's neck. The tag hanging off it read _Stark's Bitch_.

Fuck the justice system, Tony was just going to kill them now.

But the thought was quickly dashed from his mind; Peter was whimpering with pain. Tony quickly moved to the boy's side.

"Kid?"

Peter physically flinched away from Tony at the word, and the man drew back in surprise. "Peter? Peter, it's going to be alright now," Tony said, gently reaching out to cradle Peter protectively in his arms.

As soon as Peter was in Tony's arms, he broke down, sobbing into Iron Man's chest.

"Shh," Tony urged him. "Shh. It's going to be alright."

He barely registered that Sam was yelling from somewhere nearby, that Steve, Natasha, and Thor were throwing themselves past him.

He only noticed that backup had arrived when Clint crouched beside him and Peter, and carefully placed a water bottle at the boy's lips, helping him drink.

~(*)~

Tony sat in Peter's hospital room, waiting for him to return from x-rays. The doctors were still trying to determine the extent of his injuries. So far, he had multiple lacerations, bruising, and dehydration.

He looked up as Bruce entered.

"They've been arrested, and they're being processed now," he told Tony.

"Who are they?"

"The guy in charge was Charles Granger. The one who worked the camera was Dennis Reid. The one who broke Peter's bones was Finnigan Walsh. The one who strangled him was Benjamin Curtis."

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, trying to process all of this.

"Any idea why?"

"They all have a grudge against you," Bruce murmured. "For one reason or another."

"And those reasons are?"

Bruce didn't answer. Peter was being wheeled into the room again.

Tony leaped to his feet, hurrying to the boy's side.

"Later," Bruce said firmly. Peter didn't need this right now, even if he wasn't conscious, and he didn't appear to be.

"Later," Tony agreed.

The billionaire pulled a chair up to sit beside the youth.

"We've determined his right humerus, his left clavicle, his left tibia and fibula, and two of his lower left ribs are broken," the doctor murmured to Tony. "A third lower rib is fractured. He was also strangled."

Tony nodded, brushing some of Peter's hair out of his face. "Thank you, doctor."

"We're working on a treatment plan now," the doctor told him. "We will let you know when we've got it as finalized as it can be."  
"I understand."

Bruce watched as Tony worried over Peter, brushing his fingertips over his face and keeping a firm but gentle hold on his hand. Knowing that his friend was going to be preoccupied for a while, Bruce quietly slipped out of the hospital room to let the other Avengers know what was going on.

Tony, meanwhile, just prayed that Peter was going to recover.

_I'll do whatever I need to to help you make it through this, Peter_ , he promised. _I'll do whatever it takes to help you find some sort of normal. I promise. Just please, please, don't give up on me._

"You were so brave, Peter," Tony murmured quietly to the exhausted, sleeping teenager. "I'm so proud of you."

~(*)~

_"Peter…."_

_"Peter…."_

_"Peter…."_

_A dog was barking somewhere._

_"Kid."_

_"Help me," Peter sobbed, hugging himself in the dark gloom. "Please, somebody help me!"_

_"Peter…."_

_May stood over him, a bullet wound in her head, blood pouring down her face. "Peter, you failed me. It's you faaaaauuuult….." May's mouth opened and blood poured like a waterfall from her mouth._

_The barking dog grew louder. Peter tore his eyes away from May to search for it and screamed._

_Lying on his side was his own corpse, beginning to rot, bleeding. The thick red dog collar was around his neck, a few notches too tight; it had strangled the life out of him. The tag message continued to change:_ Worthless, Weak, Foolish, Burden. __

_As Peter watched, his own corpse opened its mouth, its eyes still staring sightlessly past him, and barked. A pool of blood appeared under his mouth, and Peter whimpered in fear._

_"Kid."_

_Peter turned again._

_Tony was striding towards him, giving him a comforting smile._

_"Kid. It's okay. I'm here."_

_Tony bent down and hugged Peter close. The teenager clung to the billionaire, sobbing._

_"Mr. Stark! I'm sorry!"_

_"You should be."_

_Peter suddenly gasped in pain as hands closed around his throat, and Tony turned from Leader, to Red, to Smirk, to Baldy, back to Leader, touching on each of their faces in turn._

_"If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have had to kill May."_

~(*)~

Peter screamed as he awoke.

"Peter!" Tony yelled, his eyes wide with shock and fear. "Peter! Calm down! Peter, it was just a dream! Calm down, please, calm down!"

Slowly Peter managed to slow his breathing to something closer to normal.

Then he began to cry.

Tony felt his heart break.

He leaned forward and gently hugged Peter, careful of his injuries. "I'm so sorry, Peter," Tony said, hugging the boy. "I'm so, so sorry. But you're safe, I promise. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you ever again."

Peter sobbed hard, and Tony hugged him a bit tighter. The boy wasn't really in any position to hug back.

"You're never going to be in a situation like that again," Tony told him firmly. "I promise, Peter. You're going to be safe from now on. No one is going to get in the base and hurt you."

"Th-the base?" Peter whimpered.

"I'm not going to let them throw you in foster care," Tony said gently. "I'm going to keep you safe. You're going to live on the Avengers base with all of us, and I'm not going to let you get hurt. No one is going to hurt you like this again."

Peter sat in silence for a few moments after Tony finally released him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't say you're sorry," Tony told him firmly. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I was trying my best to be brave," Peter told him in a small, shuddering voice. "I really tried."

"You were brave," Tony told him. "You were braver than most people would have been in that situation."

"They made me bark," Peter sobbed. "They made me bark like I was a dog."

"Peter," Tony said firmly, "look at me."

Peter reluctantly turned his gaze on Tony.

"They had all the power," Tony said firmly. "They were threatening to kill you."

"Th-they said they were going to kill me no matter what," Peter whimpered.

"Exactly," Tony growled. "You did what they said to survive, Peter. And I'm so, so proud of you for that. Doing that might have saved your life. And I don't know what I would have done if you died."

Tony gently brushed Peter's hair out of his eyes.

"I don't want to ever lose you. You're like my son, kid."

Peter flinched.

"Mr…..Mr. Stark?" Peter mumbled.

"Yes, Peter?"

"Can….can you not call me that anymore?"

Tony felt a stab of pain. Had they called Peter ' _kid_ ' while they tortured and threatened to kill him? Had they stolen his nickname for the boy away?

Then he remembered: yes, they had. And he was furious that they had taken that nickname from the pair of them.

But he pushed the thought aside. This was about Peter, not him. He had no right to be selfish like that.

Instead, he nodded, gently tucking Peter in as much as possible.

"Whatever you want, Peter," he told him gently. "Now, get some sleep."

Peter looked like he wanted to protest, but Tony began to hum some soft tune, something comforting and reminiscent of a lullaby, and that was all it took.

Peter drifted off to sleep, comforted by Tony's hand gently holding his own and the soft, sweet lullaby he hummed him.

Tony just hoped this sleep was dreamless.


End file.
